


Crafting for Cash

by LadyAJ_13



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Crafts, F/M, Knitting, Pre-Series, Sewing, Stanford Era, jewellery making
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-19
Updated: 2014-04-19
Packaged: 2018-01-20 00:17:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,239
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1489702
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyAJ_13/pseuds/LadyAJ_13
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sam and Jess have money issues, so find a creative solution.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Crafting for Cash

**Author's Note:**

> Previously posted on LiveJournal.

He didn’t know why, but this wasn’t an activity he had ever expected Jess to partake in.  


“Sam!” Jess stood up hurriedly, dislodging scraps of material from her lap. “You’re back,” she added, unnecessarily. Behind her was their kitchen table, but at the moment, far from being clean and shiny with the fruit bowl in the perfect centre (as it had been an hour ago, when Sam left for the gym), it had almost disappeared under piles of clothes.  


“The gym was closed, they had some sort of sewer problem.” Sam wandered over to the table, pulling out Jess’ favourite red velvet party dress. “You having a bring and buy sale?”  


“You know I’m not,” Jess snapped, sitting back down with a thump and snatching the dress out of his hands. She turned back to the sewing machine, checking the stiches on the blue fabric pulled taut on it.  


Sam grinned. “Little defensive, Jess, I have to say,” he pulled out the other chair and began sifting through the piles of clothes. “I didn’t know you could sew.”

“My grandma taught me when I was little. Gave me this too,” she said, gesturing at the machine in front of her. “It’s not something I really shout about.”  


“Why not?”  


“It’s a bit girly-girl, isn’t it?” replied Jess with a wry smile. “As soon as I hit thirteen and started getting boobs, I decided I was done with all this, anyway. No knitting, no sewing – I wasn’t going to be someone’s housewife! I was going to be one of the pretty girls.”  


Sam, who had been neatly folding what appeared to be the vast majority of Jess’ wardrobe, paused. “I’ve seen pictures of you as a kid,” he said softly. “You always were one of the pretty girls, even if you didn’t feel it.” He cupped the back of her neck with his hand, but she was still staring at the sheen of the blue satin before her. He drew back a little. “Besides, I don’t think sewing is girly. I can sew – not like this, but I can sew on a button.” Or stitch up a leg wound, he added silently.  


“That’s cool for a guy, it’s like confirming your masculinity by accepting your inner female or something. In girls it’s just a bit mumsy. I’m not mumsy.”  


“Oh believe me babe, I know you’re not,” Sam’s eyes raked over Jess’ body. Sure enough, the skimpy pyjama shorts and tank top she was wearing were anything but frumpy. He leaned over again and planted a kiss on her neck, sucking for just a second. “So why are you doing this? If you don’t like it, which it appears you don’t.”  


Jess sighed. “James’ party is soon and I needed something different to wear. I can’t buy anything.”  


“Why not? You could look good in a five dollar dress from Wal-Mart; you must be able to find something decent in this town.” Sam hauled his chair closer to Jess’, wrapped his arms around her and pulled her half onto his lap. She remained stiff in his arms.  


“We have no money Sam.” She was speaking straight ahead, staring at a spot on the far wall. “I’ve been looking at the joint account, and after we’ve paid rent this month we barely have enough to cover the heat, let alone food.” Jess slumped, finally, burying her face in his chest and taking comfort in the familiar smell of him. “I can’t get any more shifts at the shop and you already work too hard. And I won’t – I can’t – ask my parents.”  


Sam dropped a kiss on top of her hair. “You won’t have to babe,” he whispered. “We’ll make some cutbacks, that’s all. I’ll cancel my gym membership – it wasn’t going to be much use for a while anyway – and we’ll start buying the cheap bread. Stay in more, stuff like that.”  


“I just don’t know if it’ll be enough. I was-” she stopped, ducking her head further so her hair fell in her eyes. “It’s stupid, but I was going to alter these clothes, try selling them on or something.” She flicked her hair back, wry smile back on her face even though her eyes shone with tears. “I know, right? Like that’s going to help. I just couldn’t think of anything else.”  


“Well I think it’s an awesome idea. Kitsch is coming back, isn’t it?” Sam looked uncertain (he didn’t exactly pay attention to trends, but he could’ve sworn he saw something like that on the front of one of Jess’ magazines). “Homemade bags made from old clothes, scarves from scraps – it’s got the whole recycling thing going for it.”  


“So what, we go into business or something? You’re in charge of marketing and button sewing?”  


Sam grinned, tightening his arms around her. “Exactly. Jess, we live in a college town and it’s coming up to Christmas. People are going to be lapping up homemade crafts right now.”  


Jess groaned, slapping a hand to her forehead. “How did I end up with such a dork?” she asked. Sam stood, lifting her with him. Her legs wrapped automatically around his waist. “Ok, a strong dork. A strong, hot dork. But still a guy who cares more about ‘homemade crafts’,” she teases, “than the one of us supposedly with oestrogen.”  


“It could work,” insists Sam, stepping neatly over the abandoned scraps of fabric and across the lounge to their bedroom.

  


To both their surprise (if Sam is honest with himself), it does work. Jess spent the next few weeks elbows deep in her old wardrobe and ended up producing four bags of varying sizes, three belts and six multi-coloured scarfs.  


Sam attempted to teach himself to knit, before deciding it would take several years before he could produce anything worthy of selling, and Jess sat him down in front of a box of scraps; beads, old chains, bits of fabric and ribbon; anything she could find that was no use for bigger projects. “Make jewellery,” she commanded. Three days later, Sam had a small pile of ‘alternative’ metal fashion accessories. He’d found the hard glint of metal in his hands strangely similar to cleaning the guns and sharpening the knives; so much easier than messing around with sequins. Unfortunately, they no longer had any cutlery.  


They do their first stall in the middle of the university campus one Friday when neither of them have classes or work. It’s bitterly cold out, and the six scarves are sold almost as soon as they’ve set up shop. It appears Sam is a good lure to get freshman females to stop – Jess was right when she said his smile could be dangerous – and at that point, it’s easy for him to charm them into parting with cash for re-fashioned fork bracelet.  


It’s not going to make them rich overnight. Jess has pretty much run out of clothes (she’s wearing Sam’s hoodie) and they’re down to finger food, not to mention they can’t charge the prices their labour is worth or they’d never shift anything. A quick trip to a charity shop sorts their supply issue though, and it’s making enough to keep them in bread and electricity. That’s what they went into this for, after all.  


Besides, now that they’re not going out and haven’t been able to pay the cable bill, they suddenly have a lot of free time on their hands.  



End file.
